Situated on a private island in the Gulf of Mexico and built by Vogel Industries, the Shawshank Federal Penitentiary houses some of the worst undesirables known to man. You dun' fucked up and crossed the GUN LINE if you're here. Now you get to be here. Cigarettes and booty are the currency here. Be careful what ya trade for good times!

Jory Granados has 24 hours to decide whether he wants to take his case to trial, or plead guilty and accept a [2] Day Stay at Shawshank. Accepting a plea bargain would come with the stipulation that Jory be barred from using computer technology for 60 Days, understanding that being in possession of a computer during this [60] day period would constitute a parole violation and that his character could be arrested for it. [In reality, hackers are often barred from using computers for years as stipulation for their release].

BEHOLD, THE GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT IN THE UNIVERSE; THE SINGULARITY ENGINE! THE PERFECT MARRIAGE BETWEEN MAN AND MACHINE. THEIR BEAUTY WILL BE HAUNTING. CAN YOU SEE ME NOW FAAAAATHER? YOU'LL NEVER LEAVE AGAIN.

I'm not going out without a few swings, whether it makes sense or not. If Jimmy will accept the challenge and show up to prove his case, I'll do him the honor of giving it my best to refute the charges. I want to take this to trial, let it not be said that Jory was a stool pidgeon

Caine had heard rumors about the first case to go before the Court of Owls and, never hesitating to seize a high profile criminal defense case, he decided to pay a visit to the Shawshank Federal Penitentiary.

"I am here to see Mr. Gra-nay-dos," he told the guards at the window in his thick, Deep South accent. He pulled out his attorney's license and held it up to the window. "This man is without legal representation and he has a constitutional right to counsel."

The guard checked his credentials, ran his bar number, and let him through.

After a wait of about thirty minutes, he was brought to a private room for prisoners and their attorneys. He saw a young man sitting at the table. "So this is the idiot that tried to hack into the IRS..." he thought to himself before taking his seat.

"Listen, boy. You ain't gonna go into the Court of Owls alone, you hear?" Caine voice was thick, fast, and with authority. "Now my name is Reginald Caine, 'Mr. Caine' to you. Maybe, after this meeting, you can refer to me as 'my attorney.'"

"Now here is the game, you don't talk at trial, eva. You stay quiet and let me do all the talkin'," he started as he slid his business card over to his prospective client.

"You are in a bit of some shit, ya hear? I can't promise you nothin' and you might end up back in this cell fo' a while but, believe you me, I am your best shot at winnin' this thing," Well, at least a better shot than had he done it himself.

"My fee is $20,000, you can pay me after trial. If I lose, its half that and I will collect when you get out." Money wasn't really the concern for Caine, but it sure was a nice bonus. Caine was more interested in the thought of emerging victorious in the first ever Court of Owls case.

"Let me know if you accept, so I can get on out of here and get to work." He began to tap impatiently as he waited for an answer, which Mr. Granados never had a chance of giving fast enough.

Jory had been sitting in his cell for about an hour after being arrested, internally punching himself for forgetting the most basic of counter-hacking protocols: honeypots. They did in a lot of the best hackers in the world, either between competing hackers or, in cases like this, by hackers who've betrayed the community and gone off to work for the Feds. He silently swore as he sat therein his cell, figuring that his appeal for a trial had been ignored, that he would get even with Miss Delilah Harrington.

Then, he was abruptly brought from his cell and into a small meeting room down the hall, wherein a man of African descent, based on his appearance, was speaking to him in a thick Deep Southern accent that was difficult to understand. After hearing him, Jory had to think for a minute and let it all sink in as he contemplated what he had been offered. $20,000 was a lot of money, but time in the Federal pen and months of restriction from all computers was a lot more of a loss.

So he nodded, looking up at Mr. Caine, wondering if he was about to make a deal with the actual father of lies. "You have a deal, Mr. Caine, if you do your best then I will gladly repay you appropriately as you have asked."